The Dawn of All

  (I)

  It was a few minutes after they had finished their almost silentmeal that evening, that Monsignor suddenly leaned forward from hischair in the great cool loggia and passed his hands over his eyeslike a sleepy man. From the streets outside still came the murmurof innumerable footsteps and voices and snatches of music.

  "Tired?" asked the other gently. (He had not spoken for someminutes, and remembering the long silence, had wondered if, afterall, it had been wise to bring a man with such an experiencebehind him to such a rush and excitement as that through whichthey had passed to-day.)

  Monsignor said nothing for an instant. He looked round the room,opened and closed his lips, and then, leaning back again,suddenly smiled. Then he took up the pipe he had laid aside justnow and blew through it.

  "No," he said. "Exactly the opposite. I feel awake at last."

  "Eh?"

  "It seems to have got into me at last. All this . . . all thisvery odd world. I have begun to see."

  "Please explain."

  Monsignor began to fill his pipe slowly.

  "Well, Versailles, even, didn't quite do it," he said. "Itseemed to me a kind of game--certainly a very pleasant one;but----" (He broke off.) "But what we've seen to-day seemssomehow the real thing."

  "I don't quite understand."

  "Well, I can see for myself now that all that you've told me isreal--that the world's really Christian, and so on. It was thoseChinese guards, I think, which as much as anything----"

  "Chinese? . . . I don't remember them."

  The prelate smiled again.

  "Well, I scarcely noticed them at the time, either. But I've beenthinking about them. And then all the rest of it . . . and thePope. . . . By the way, I couldn't make out his face very well.Is that a picture of him?"

  He stood up suddenly and stepped across to where the portraithung. There was nothing very startling about the picture. Itshowed just a very ordinary face with straight closed lips, of aman seated in an embossed chair, with the familiar white cap,cassock, and embroidered stole with spade-ends.

  "He looks quite ordinary," mused Monsignor aloud. "It's . . .it's like the face of a business man."

  "Oh yes, he's ordinary. He's an extremely good man and quiteintelligent. He's never had any very great crisis to face, you know.They say he's a good financier. . . . You look disappointed."

  "I hadn't expected him to look like that," said the prelate, musing.

  "Why not?"

  "Well, he seems to have an extraordinary position in the world. Ishould have expected more of a----"

  "More of a great man? Monsignor, don't you think that the AverageMan makes the best ruler?"

  "But that's rank Democracy!"

  "Not at all. Democracy doesn't give the Average Man any realpower at all. It swamps him among his fellows--that is to say, itkills his individuality; and his individuality is the one thinghe has which is worth anything."

  Monsignor sat down again, sighing.

  "Well, I think it's got into me at last," he repeated. "I mean, Ithink I really realize what the world's like now. But I want tosee a great deal more, you know."

  "What sort of things?"

  "Well, I don't quite know. . . . You might call it the waterlinebetween Faith and Science. I see the Faith side. I understandthat the life of the world moves on Catholicism now; but I don'tquite realize yet how all that joins on to Science. In my day----"(he broke off) "I mean I had a kind of idea that there was a gapbetween Faith and Science--if not actual contradictions. How dothey join on to one another? What's the average scientificattitude towards religion? Do people on both sides just say thateach must pursue its own line, even if they never meet?"

  Father Jervis looked puzzled.

  "I don't quite understand. There's no conflict between Faith andScience. A large proportion of the scientists areecclesiastics."

  "But what's the meeting-point? That's what I don't see."

  The priest shook his head, smiling.

  "I simply don't know what you mean, Monsignor. Give me an example."

  "Well . . . er . . . what about Faith-healing? The dispute usedto be, I think, as to the explanation of certain cures. (Mr.Manners spoke of it, you know.) Psychologists used to say thatthe cures happened by suggestion; and Catholics used to say thatthey were supernatural. How have they become reconciled?"

  Father Jervis considered a moment.

  "I don't think I've ever thought of it like that," he said. "Ithink I should say--" (he hesitated) "I think I should say thateverybody believes now that the power of God does everything;and that in some cases He works through suggestion, and in somethrough supernatural forces about which we don't know verymuch. But I don't think it matters much (does it?), if youbelieve in God."

  "That doesn't explain what I mean."

  The door opened abruptly and a servant came in. He bowed.

  "The Bishop of Sebaste enquires whether you are at home, Monsignor?"

  Monsignor glanced at Father Jervis.

  "He's come out as chaplain to Prince George," explained thepriest in rapid Latin. "We'd better see him."

  "Very good. . . . Yes," said Monsignor.

  He turned to the priest again.

  "Hadn't you better tell him about me?"

  "You don't mind?"

  "Of course not."

  Father Jervis got up and slipped quickly out of the room.

  "I'm delighted to see you again, Monsignor," began the Bishop,coming in, followed by Father Jervis three minutes later.

  Monsignor straightened himself after the kissing of the ring.

  "You're very kind, my lord," he said.

  As the Bishop sat down, he examined him carefully, noticing thatthere was nothing noticeable about him. He seemed acharacteristic prelate--large, genial, ruddy and smiling, withbright eyes and well-cut mouth. He was in his purple andferraiuola, and carried himself briskly and cheerfully.

  "I came to see if you were going to the reception to-night. Ifso, we might go together. But it's rather late!"

  "We haven't heard about that."

  "Oh! it's purely informal. The Holy Father probably won't appearhimself, except perhaps for a moment."

  "Oh! At the Vatican?"

  "Yes. There will be an enormous crowd, of course. . . . The Princehas gone to bed, poor little chap! He's done up altogether; and Ithought of slipping over for a half-hour or so."

  Monsignor glanced at his friend.

  "I think it would be an excellent thing," observed the old priest.

  "Well, there's a carriage waiting," said the Bishop, rising."I think we'd better go, if we're going. We shall be backwithin the hour."